Unhappy Birthday
by DarthMomo
Summary: It's Russia's birthday and Latvia stops by to quickly say happy birthday and flee, but of course he doesn't get off that easily.


Well, this is my attempt to write Russia/Latvia, because I found out the other day I really like it. This particular story doesn't really have any historical significance in it or any reference to culture, which for me is pretty odd, but I like it anyways. Really the only allusions to history at all in it is the fact that the USSR was officially an atheist state, and you have to infer that for yourself, oh well :3

* * *

><p>Latvia stood outside the door uncertainly, teetering lightly on his feet and trembling as he usually did. Should he approach Russia...? It was the other nation's birthday, and last year he had suffered greatly for deciding to ignore the event, but the year before that he had been nearly battered beyond recognition for acknowledging the day! What did he do?<p>

Shutting his lilac eyes and taking a deep breath, Latvia tentatively rapped his knuckles against the door. His trembling increased tenfold and he flinched, expecting the door to swing open and knock him out cold... but nothing happened. Knocking a little harder, he called in almost a whisper," Russia...? Y-you i-in there? I j-just wanted to wish you a happ-ppy b-birthday, s-so I'll be off..."

His blood ran cold as the a light voice floated to his ears," Ooh~! Latvia... Come in." The voice was taunting, in that it held all the innocence in the world, but was commanding like no other.

"Y-yes sir," Latvia whimpered as he opened the door and peered in. He bit his lip as anxious energy vented any way it could. In the old days, he would have optimistically noted that Russia seemed to be in a good mood, but now he knew the frigid nation's smile was the standard expression for joy and righteous fury alike.

"Come, Latvia, sit," Russia said softly, gesturing to the chair across the desk from him. Latvia's eyes followed the larger man's hand, falling upon an ornate wooden chair. Sitting on the desk directly in front of his newly assigned seat was a bottle of high quality vodka and two shot glasses.

The small nation sat timidly and gazed up at Russia. He quickly looked back down and winced as Russia placed a large hand atop his head and pressed down.

"We should celebrate such a grand occasion, да?"

Nodding with a little confusion, Latvia glanced back up into Russia's eyes. Hadn't Russia always hated when his birthday came around? Didn't he say that it was just a reminder of his terrible childhood and was not a day to be joyful?

Patting the blonde's head a few times before finally taking his hand off, Russia opened the bottle of vodka. "Simply a wonderful day. Why wouldn't we celebrate?" He mumbled to himself as he poured to shots and nudged one for Latvia to take.

As the Baltic state obliged and grasped the small glass, Latvia saw the slight tremble of Russia's hand. For Russia to be losing motor control like that, he must be ridiculously drunk. Reassessing how little vodka was in the bottle, one that Latvia remembered restocking in Russia's desk drawer just yesterday, confirmed this theory. He had to use every piece of will he had scrapped together to not tremble even more.

Holding up his shot glass, Latvia weakly said," Cheers..." He flinched as Russia's own glass made contact.

"Да! Cheers! For cheer is all any of us have here in loving Soviet Union! Cheers for long, eternal life! Cheers for eternal hell I suffer...!" He placed the shot glass against his chapped lips and murmured," Cheers for... Cheers for pain and hardship..." closing his eyes, Russia forced a smile and continued in a shout," Being gone now that we embrace Communism and all it has to offer!"

Both countries tipped back their glasses and Latvia immediately held out his glass to be refilled. He'd found out the hard way, no one should pause before the first and second shot. As soon as his was refilled, he accepted the bottle and poured Russia's serving. Again they both emptied the glasses, but Latvia wasn't pressured to down a third in any hurry.

He obediently poured another for Russia as the larger nation held out his glass. Already warmth spread through his throat and stomach, but Latvia didn't expect much of the other pleasantries of vodka to set in quickly enough. "S-s-sir," He whispered," I-I sh-should probab-bably get back t-to chores..."

"Нет, Latvia can't leave," Russia said with the same of tone one would use when reading aloud the instructions of a simple game, but it still managed to be terrifying.

"S-sorry, I-I didn't mean..."

"Latvia, why is it that you are still talking? I didn't tell to speak, I told you to sit."

Covering his mouth as he whimpered and his teeth chattered in his frenzied trembling, tears sprung to his eyes. Another shot of vodka was poured for him and he swiftly drank it. With a dark smile Russia poured him another and another and another before even attending to his own empty glass.

Latvia was starting to get to that lovely point where you could no longer count how many shots you had downed; whether that was because he had had too many or because he simply had lost count from the sizable number, he couldn't tell. He didn't particularly care though.

"Sir, w-why do y-you hate your birthda-?" Latvia couldn't silence himself in time, and broke out in a cold sweat as Russia's smile widened.

"What was that, Latvia? I thought you were asking me something when all of a sudden you turned all pale..." His grip tightened on the neck of the vodka bottle until his cracked and broke into a few pieces. "Oh, that's bothersome. And it was only my third bottle too... Well, at least it was almost empty anyways~! "

Latvia's eyes widened at this piece of news. It was only six o'clock! Sure it was a day he particularly detested, but to go through two large bottles all by himself...

"No more shaking, no more tears, no more!" Russia commanded cheerily as he looked up at the Baltic State.

"I-I'm trying! I'm s-s-sorry~!"

"We're apart of large family, you have no reason to upset, дa? The Soviet Union is so magnificent! We should all be so happy to wrapped in its light!"

"If it's so great, why are so many dying?"

Latvia's heart skipped a beat as he heard those words come spilling out of his mouth. No...! He hadn't meant...! Blood pounded in his ears and he began to wring his hands together nervously, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he was physically able to do so. This was the worst topic to hit on! Why did he have to say anything?

With a stream of small mutterings, Russia picked up his shot glass and smashed it into the ebony desk. Vodka spilled out across the dark wood, catching evening light that streamed in through the distant window. Blood was soon mixing in as the glass punctured in and ripped his hand to shreds. The frigid nation winced as vodka soaked into his fresh, open wounds, but didn't bother to move his hand as he just stared at the blood.

"Look what you made me do! I rather liked that чашкa," Russia complained with a small pout. With no warning, the man suddenly pushed the desk hard enough to send it flying into Latvia.

The small country was left no time to brace himself as he was toppled to the ground, the desk landing his midsection. Various pieces of glass smashed next to his head, luckily only one piece of glass catching his cheek. His vocal cords burned as he screamed out in agony. He thanked God (Not that he would _ever_ admit that, Russia would be furious to hear of any worship of God) that the desk wasn't overly ornate and was pretty light as far as good desks go. Still, it was so heavy that it caused too much strain to breathe very well. As the nation attempted to take in a deeper breath, a low cracking sound emanated from his ribcage. He let out a choked sob, feeling himself getting less oxygen with every shallow breath.

With a horrible giggle, Russia stood and laughed," Latvia must be very drunk to have managed such a slip all on his own, дa?"

Nodding his head with so much fervor he was afraid it might snap off, Latvia coughed out," Y-yes, s-sir! S-so drunk...!" Tears ran down his face freely and he let out choked sobs as he tried to lift the desk just enough so he could breathe deeply once.

Leaning on the fallen desk, Russia practically purred," You're just too funny, Latvia..."

"Pl-plea-..." His head was becoming lightheaded and he couldn't even finish the simple thought as his vision darkened. The sudden breath he took as the weight was removed from him seared his lungs.

He gazed up at Russia, the image greeting his drunken and oxygen deprived vision being surreal in quality. "S-s-sorry... I-I..." His trembling was too great to continue a coherent thought. He nearly jumped out of skin as Russia dropped to his knees and placed a cold hand on Latvia's cheek.

Russia shook his head sorrowfully. Running his hand, the bloodied one, through his own pale hair, red smeared through it. "Latvia~, why can't every one just be nice? I try so hard to be perfect and help my people, but people just end up hating me for it...!" Leaning over the other, he stroked the other cheek with his bloody hand, apathetically staring at the smears of blood he left behind. "It's been almost five hundred years, and I still remember what he did to me on this day..."

Latvia wondered briefly of whom Russia spoke of, and what he had done, but finally some sense registered in his brain as he chose not to say anything. Instead he just shook, feeling the hands build in pressure on his face. Soon they were pressing hard enough that his jaw began to hurt, but Latvia knew nothing could help him, so he sniffled back new tears and tried not to think about the excruciating pain he was in.

Then suddenly the pressure was gone and Latvia felt weightless. "Latvia... Go to bed."

"E-exc-cuse m-m-me...?"

"Go to your room and sleep. You look as it you haven't slept in days."

It was only around six! Usually he still had hours of chores, not including helping prepare dinner. Why was Russia being nice...? His battered mind immediately jumped to the conclusion it must be a trap, but it wasn't like he could decline the offer anyways.

He tried to sit up, but fell back to the ground in a pained panic the right side of his ribs exploded in pain. Breath coming short, he whispered,"I- I can't, S-sir... I c-can't g-get up...!" He cringed, expecting to be hit, instead, surprised as gentle hands picked him up.

With Latvia held close in his arms, Russia headed through the halls and found the Baltic's shared room. Kicking the door open, he gingerly set the blonde on the bed and sat beside him.

Nervously, he peered up at Russia, but the other looked away so his face was covered in shadow and Latvia couldn't read the expression. Blinking his eyes wearily, the Baltic State drifted in and out of consciousness. He was physically and mentally exhausted.

A hushed tune met his ears and he began to lose to the darkness that met him every time his eyes closed. At first he resisted, confused what was exactly taking place, but Russia hummed a little more powerfully. Latvia fell asleep to a large, cold hand rubbing his forehead soothingly.

* * *

><p>It's just a one-shot, since I kind of just wrote it without planning.<p>

and no, we don't ever get to figure out what Russia is talking about near the end.


End file.
